Once upon a timeWhen women were birdsThere was the simple understandingThat to sing at dawnAnd to sing at duskWas to heal the world through joy.

The birds still remember what we have forgotten,That the world is meant to be celebrated. –Terry Tempest Williams

I am writing a poem that is really a prayer. I am telling my story by walking its weight & light over the earth. A wise teacher regularly reminds me that the simplest solutions are the most profound, that healing is always within arm’s reach: If you find yourself with a broken heart, cajole it to go out for a walk with you, and let the beauty of this earth transfuse your empty places with light and life. If you feel isolated or suffocating in the dusk of your own heavy inner thoughtscape, call a friend and become her best listener. Sing a song to the birds. Sow seeds in the weeping earth. Make friends with a child at the market. Hold your inner girl and stroke her hair. Take a jasmine bath with Joni Mitchell. Paint your nails with lightning bolts. Collect litter in the park and tell no one. Write a poem that is really a prayer… I’m wearing a crown no one sees--

To wake up each day before the dawn and put on my lightning hat

And commitment to my self is what I most desire—to commit to huge Love

And what does this look like: still air, long time walking, rain

The rain that pours down pours right into my soul to wash it

My soul has been worn with trembling, wars, remorse

But I am mutating into a creature without regret Here at the sisters’ plantation where they are all so kind

All I have is my ragged breath

my desire

the carved rosewood box it comes in

these stones filling my pockets with mute light I wear white and long to become like a saint

So I take saintly measures of rebellion—I will be the saint of self-love

The saint of honoring my passionate imperfection

The only sacrifice I will is of the machine

Of doubt But I must not think of the future

Of what comes after

For I live in the now in this moment of choosing Decency, sanity, peace To listen to the stirrings of my soft open heart

To make safe the way of the pearl that collects there

Is this how a pearl grows? One breath at a time I see this love is not a crossing over

One heroic leap But an accumulation As the ground gets immense over eons—and filled with stars(April 24, 2014 - The Christine Center, Wisconsin)

I'm pleased to read your short poem. The messages it conveys struck my heart and mind. You're right! people need to take a rest every once in a while. Resting and contemplating on good and bad things happened in your life can heal yourself. After this, you will be born as a new person. Then you can start things all over again and correct your mistakes. I hope that you can create more poems that can inspire thousands of people.